


At the First and Last

by teapig



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: 5+1 Things (sort of), Anal Sex, First Fight, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Modern AU, Rimming, Tattoos, for the horny bastards of the fandom - chapter 5's all you're getting but it's There, shameless Christmas fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2019-09-28 05:45:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17177042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teapig/pseuds/teapig
Summary: A 5+1 things-style one shot series of modern!AU veteran Solly and his tiny rat boyfriend figuring out how they live now. (Aka 6 firsts and 2 lasts because I'm gay and can't count)





	1. The First Tattoo

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Em](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Em).



> It's been a while since I wrote anything, but after my favourite person on earth (Em that's you and I love you) introduced me to Solomon several months ago, I've not really been able to get my head out of this au... And so this was born. Hopefully it'll keep updating fairly regularly but we'll see I guess!

Solomon had never dreamed that he'd be the kind to cover his scars. But then again, he’d never dreamed it would end like this, either. “A year from now,” Heather had told him, “and we’ll be well clear of this mess. Just ten more weeks, now.” Those ten weeks were to buy them their freedom from the military, from the force that Solomon had once been proud to serve. It had been easy to be proud at sixteen - when it was all new uniforms, and training brigades, and friendly colleagues who would quickly become far more than that. _ “Just ten more weeks, and we'll be clear of it.” _

But now Heather was dead, and Solomon knew that he'd never be clear of it. The war was writ large across his hands, his mindset, and his features, and had carved itself deep, deep into his skin, so deep that it could never heal. The first ones hadn't bothered him so much - despite the way they webbed across the vast majority of his back, it was mostly the faint ache the cold brought on that reminded him that they were there at all. This, however, was entirely different. These scars sprawled across his stomach, the fine lines breaking up and slicing right through the ridges of muscle that he’d worked hard to regain. But the worst of them stretched jagged over his side - uneven and undisguisable, he knew its every twist and turn, had seen for himself how the shrapnel had careered towards him, its path not halted but merely slowed as it tore through Heather's skull. He still blamed himself, of course he did - no matter what the therapy, or his partner, or rational logic told him, the fact remained that his survival had relied solely on Heather's death - and that when the time had come to cut off his life support and silence his heart for good, it had been him calling the shots. The skin and flesh was long healed by now; yet the guilt still smarted in it whenever it caught his gaze for too long. He could feel it as Cornelius’ hands stroked over his sides, feeling it burning through the gaps in his splayed fingers and against his tender lips, marring their quiet moments with unspoken grief. It was then he decided that something had to change - that unless it did, he’d never be able to move forward with his life as he’d always promised Heather he would if it came to this.

And so he’d found himself in the tattoo parlour, poring over sketched suggestions to cover the scar. “Flowers work well,” the artist had said, “as do most plants, really,” looking slightly nervous under Cornelius’ overly protective gaze. Despite himself, Solomon couldn’t help but grin slightly as he stripped off his shirt, watching Cornelius’ expression as he tried not to get jealous at the sight of someone else’s hands on his toned body. The design they settled on was deceptively simple - a few shoots of rich, purple heather twisting up the scar, with Heather’s initials laid down alongside them. He couldn’t help but look slightly thrown as he was asked for Heather’s first name, caught off-guard by how foreign it felt in his mouth. He’d known a lot of Williams in his time - but only one of them was his Heather. Hand-waving the suggestion of multiple sittings, he settled himself in the chair, lying mostly on his front to give the artist room to work, and with his head cushioned on his hands. “I’ve seen enough needles in me before now,” he replied to the offer of as many breaks as he chose, trying to keep the sarcasm from creeping into his voice, “didn’t need a break then, don’t think I’ll be needing one now.” Cornelius knew better than to try to dissuade his partner when he’d set his mind to something, instead keeping quiet and close to be there once the confidence from the numbing adrenaline slipped away. He couldn’t help but chuckle slightly at the smug relief on Solomon’s face as the first strokes were laid down, reaching up to ruffle his shaggy hair. “I’m guessing that’s not so bad then?” He teased gently, grinning at the ‘mmph’ that came as a reply before Solomon untucked his face to look at him properly.   
“‘s not bad at all-” he started, before gasping at the feeling of the artist clearing away the blood as he worked, “-’xcept that bloody tickles!” 

For a while after, the adrenaline kept him in high spirits, chatting easily with the artist and reassuring Cornelius with a smile and a squeeze to his hand. The sound of the tattoo gun remained eerily familiar for a while, leaving him puzzled until it finally slotted into place in his memory. “‘t sounds like the sewing machine Heather’s mam used to have,” he'd said wistfully, the thought leading him down memory lane for quite some time, and leaving him there to muse over all the handmade jumpers, scarves, and gloves that she'd put together for him year on year after he'd lost his own mother, even as he’d continued to grow and grow. Hickey listened quietly, prompting when he needed to, but mostly letting Solomon talk, and carefully committing each word to memory. The vast majority of what he knew of Heather had only come out in the days surrounding his death - and thus any memory Solomon shared with a smile was cherished even more in his mind.

After some time, Solomon fell silent, the memories in his mind ones that couldn’t quite be phrased to make sense to those outside the military world. Instead he let himself rest idly, eyes fixed on the chair as the disjointed memories danced across the cool leather. As the pinpricks of the gun faded into numbness, he found himself counting the days since he’d last visited Heather, and wondering if the flowers on his mother’s grave had wilted away in the time that had gone by.  _ You need to do better for them _ , he told himself,  _ after everything they did for you, this is little but a first step. _ Slowly but surely, he began compiling a list of all the things he had to be grateful to them for, all the times that he hadn't thanked them properly or had taken them for granted. The artist noticed the change in his demeanor, and looked to Hickey before speaking. “That's the first layer done. You want a break before I go in again? It’ll be a while yet, what with going over the scar itself, and the initialling…” he warned. Gritting his teeth, Solomon pressed his forehead into the cool leather. Taking a break felt like cheating - after all, Heather hadn't had that option while he was suffering through the last few weeks of his life, so why should he? “'s alright. Go ahead, it's still numb.” He replied, before feeling Hickey's piercing gaze on him and finding himself almost shy of meeting it.  
“Solly are you sure?” Came the equally worried voice, “not even to give this poor guy’s wrist a break?” Teasing sometimes worked to get through to a particularly stubborn Solomon - but today evidently wasn’t one of those days.  
“Let's just get it over with.” He grumbled in reply, wanting to sink back into his reverie rather than focus on his own weaknesses. 

The artist was carefully tracking around the outline of the image for a second time when Solomon first began to really feel it, a sharp intake of breath the only noticeable tell before he forced himself to breathe through this new ache.  _ This is nothing _ , he tried to tell himself,  _ nothing in comparison to what it's hiding, let alone in comparison to what it's remembering.  _ Hickey's hand landed somewhere along his forearm, rubbing gently as he murmured something to him - yet Solomon didn't hear much of it. It wouldn't be much longer, he reasoned, it wasn't worth disrupting things now. But then there was a brief pause, letting him catch his breath as the artist shifted. When the needle came down on untouched skin, the sting was fresh and sore, bringing reactionary tears to his eyes - and once he felt those familiar letters being formed on him, something broke sharply inside. Burying his face even further, his cheeks took on the telltale flush that always followed his tears as he tried to keep quiet, fists clenched and his ragged breathing muffled by the leather. He was exhausted by now - the permanence of it all, of finding something worthy to remember Heather by, and this constant stinging sensation all weighing on him and dragging him down. Cornelius found himself torn as he gazed down at his partner, biting at his lip before running a hand over Solomon’s shoulder and feeling it heaving unnaturally under his touch. As soon as the 'H’ was done, he looked to the artist, hoping the sheer worry in his eyes would say enough. The artist paused, giving Cornelius a moment to stroke back Solomon's hair and croon to him quietly “'s alright, tough guy. It's alright.”  
“Think we could both use a break, make sure this comes out the best it can be,” he'd said then, speaking to both of them even as he knew only one was really listening. “I'll step out for a few, let you get steady again.” Quickly and quietly, he left Cornelius to it, earning a rare, genuine smile from him.

As soon as he was gone, Cornelius leaned in closer, brushing back Solomon's hair to expose as much of his flushed face as he could. “Hey,” he whispered, running a thumb over his too-warm skin, “Solly, Solly, it's alright. You've been so brave so far, and we’re so nearly there-” He broke off as a fresh round of sobs seemed to take hold of that fatal word 'brave’, and paused to catch as many of those tears as he could on his thumbs, hushing him softly. “C’mon love. Look at me now, yeah?” He murmured, before leaning in to press a soft kiss to his scarred cheekbone, “let me take care of you.” Slipping a gentle hand down to cup the other side of Solomon's head, Cornelius kissed at his temple repeatedly, lavishing affection on all he could reach of his partner’s face until he felt safe enough to uncurl himself properly. Solomon was stuck choking on his sobs, on the thoughts and words that were dragging him back into this spiral. With Cornelius’ gentle hands in his hair he couldn't hold back, his soft cries growing more audible as the tension was kissed out of him, leaving him slumped and sobbing into the seat. 

Cornelius moved to crouch by his head, his elbows resting on the leather as he slowly coaxed Solomon from his hiding place with soft-voiced reassurances and deft, gentle hands. “There,” he soothed, lifting Solomon's head to lie cradled in the crook of his arm, and chasing away the tears with his other hand, “I've got you, Sol… Take a deep breath for me, yeah?”  
Solomon blinked quickly as he found himself gazing at Cornelius’ worried face, a few shuddering breaths tearing through him as he hiccupped between sobs. “'m sorry,” he rasped, “I jus’- jus’ miss him. Don't wanna let him down.” He choked out the last few words, wishing he could curl in on himself protectively but terrified of disturbing the ink as it settled.   
“You could never!” Cornelius broke in, pushing back that shaggy hair as he tried to catch his eye. “Look at me, Solly. I know I didn't know him for all that long, but believe me, he was so proud of you. It showed in everything you did for each other, in every story he told me about you, in every glance you shared. He was so proud of who you’d become, Solly, and he'd be even more proud of you for getting through everything that was left behind. They all would be. As am I.” Solomon's sobs had fallen silent as he tried to focus on what Hickey was saying, his hitching breaths the only sign that he was still crying. “‘M not sure I deserve all that. ‘ve not done that much, not really.”  
Cornelius sighed, the sound laced with concern, internally incredulous at how little confidence Solomon had in himself even now. He buried his face in his hair, hushing him as he gathered his thoughts up once more. “You’ve done so much, darling. When they sent you to take lives, you put your life on the line to save them. When they tried to train you into mindless patriotism, you focused on compassion. And when they took that small, scared boy and made him a soldier too young, with all their false promises of solving everything that just couldn’t be fixed, you still grew into the brilliant man I know and love. Despite everything, you’re kind, you’re strong, you’re hard-working, and you care so, so much. More than anyone would be expected to.” Pausing, he breathed him in, shutting his eyes briefly as he surrounded himself with his scent. “You’re doing more than enough, Solomon. You are enough.”

Between them, they gradually calmed Solomon’s breathing enough for him to relax again, Cornelius determinedly kissing away the tears until a tiny smile wormed its way onto his partner’s face. “There now,” he beamed back at him, “that’s better isn’t it, yeah?” Solomon only smiled softly in response, nuzzling up close as he pressed their foreheads together, and letting his eyes fall shut with a hum of agreement. Even once the artist returned, Cornelius stayed close to his head, one hand stroking his hair and the other roaming over his bare, broad shoulders as the final layers were laid down. It still hurt, Solomon found; yet without his shaking - without the hurt bottling up and making itself worse, he found it bearable, especially as Cornelius took on the conversation and chatted away lightly, making him smile with all the promises of the pleasant things they could do when they got home. What the artist didn’t know was how long they would spend cuddled up between each one - the quiet hours they’d spend curled up together in their patch in the sun, or swaddled in their nest of soft blankets - sometimes talking, sometimes reading to one another, or sometimes just soaking up the silence, their hands tracing over the stories told in each mark that made their bodies their own. 

And then it was done. With Cornelius’ steadying hands to support him, Solomon heaved himself up and tried not to smirk at the indents his muscles had left in the leather. He hobbled over to the mirror, Cornelius leading him whilst on tiptoes to cover his eyes so that he couldn’t peek at it too soon. But once he’d seen it for the first time, he knew he’d never be able to stop staring at the ink spreading its way over his body - at the delicate lines covering the harsh ridges of disrupted flesh, at the warmth of the colours, and at those ever-familiar initials woven in amongst them. Once it was healed, he’d find himself running his fingers over it absent-mindedly, a small reminder that he still took Heather, and all his love and laughter, with him wherever he went. For now though, he twisted this way and that, gazing at it under different lights in wonder until Cornelius’ tiny body wormed its way under his other arm, pressing against and around him with a gentle kiss pressed to his skin. “‘s perfect, isn’t it?” He murmured to him, meeting his gaze in the mirror before resting their heads together.    
Cornelius nodded, a proud smile gracing his face as he reached up to Solomon’s cheek. “It’s beautiful. A beautiful tribute on an even more gorgeous man.” Then, with soft smiles and laughter, they left, Heather’s memory written safely under Solomon’s shirt where no harm could reach it anymore.


	2. The First Migraine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm afraid we've started out with plenty of hurt/comfort (surprisingly enough), but it will get better for them eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for vomiting, just in case <3

The darkness that greeted Cornelius on his walk home came as a much needed relief after two weeks of consistent overtime. He supposed he should be grateful, really, that he still had a job at all; yet after everything had been thrown up in the air, it seemed to have crashed down around him even harder. The pub had been the pride and joy of its previous owner, and Cornelius had loved working for Tom, even if he’d be hard-pressed to admit it. If they could’ve kept things running on a currency of love alone, they would have done, and this whole mess would never have come into being. Yet the recession still had its claws firmly in their side, and had eventually dragged the pub far out of Tom’s hands. The chain that had taken over was a far cry from the warm, home-from-home atmosphere that Tom had insisted on - replacing it with a much more standardised, rule-abiding feel that Cornelius could hardly stand. He barely recognised the place by now - with its new, boringly-standard furniture, the new, “professional” uniform, and the impersonal greetings and dialogues that they were now required to use with the customers, Cornelius felt that the heart had gone out of the old place - and his own with it. The new owners tended to be particularly harsh on him - as the only full-time, permanent employee, he had the time, as well as the courage to stand up when he felt something wasn’t working - and in consequence, brought countless disciplines down on his head. Yesterday’s confrontation had got even further under his skin than usual; the owners had suggested that his ‘longer than average’ hair was ‘tarnishing their image’, and should therefore be cut back, nonchalantly breaching each and every one of his boundaries. He’d stewed on it all night long, his jaw clenched and teeth grinding involuntarily as he weighed up whether he could risk receiving another warning from the safety of Solomon’s arms.

It was the tension from the tight, short ponytail he’d pulled his hair into that had brought everything to a peak - and now, even in the late night chill of the street, he found himself sweating, his palms clammy and ears ringing as he stumbled home. He couldn’t unlock the door too soon - finding that even the thud of his shoes sent new sparks of agony through his skull as he kicked them off, before beginning to fumble with his coat buttons. Solomon’s rich voice echoed through the hallway as he came through to greet him, the quiet scrape of his chair from rooms away still loud enough to have lights dancing before his eyes. “Well look what the cat dragged in,” Solomon called out teasingly, before pausing in the doorway as he spotted Hickey’s pale face, his skin shining unnaturally in the half-light, and the whiteness only made more stark by the absence of his bright shock of hair and the stark black of his shirt. Quickly and quietly, he stole closer, sighing quietly as he freed Cornelius from where he’d been tangled in his coat, and took him in at close quarters. “Christ, what are they doing to you, love?” He asked softly, lifting one huge hand to tuck back the strands that had escaped Cornelius’ ponytail, and leaning in to kiss at his too-warm forehead. He’d hoped to soothe the tense exhaustion in his shoulders even slightly - but instead he felt him flinch away, leaving his own heart sinking even further.  
“‘m sorry,” Cornelius grated out, “‘s my head...” Solomon wrapped an arm around his waist then, feeling his ribs press back against him one by one as he considered the best way forward. “Hush now, love... Let’s get you comfortable, hm?” He suggested quietly, waiting for any kind of response before scooping him up in his arms, and carrying him into the warmth of the house.

Cornelius’ head lolled heavily against Solomon’s chest for a moment, his eyes swimming as he clenched them shut and tried to breathe through the pain. But apparently it was too little, too late, and he quickly found himself tugging at Solomon’s jumper to get his attention. “‘m sorry,” he whimpered again, “think ‘m gonna be sick.” He didn’t hear much else as Solomon tried to keep him calm whilst striding towards the bathroom, getting there just as he began to retch, his whole body shaking with the effort. All Solomon could do was keep his hair back, his spare hand running soothing circles over his back as he murmured to him. “There now, love… It’s alright, C’rnelius. We’ll get you right again sooner than you think. I promise. Just keep breathing for me now, that’s it.” He crooned to him, feeling every inch of his partner’s body trembling under his hands as he brought up all the snatched sips of water he’d crammed in during the day, the half-eaten snacks that he’d bolted down in hopes of staving this off, so that Solomon wouldn’t have to see him like this. “‘m-’m sorry…” he choked out as soon as the first wave seemed to be over, sagging against the cool ceramic of the toilet as the buzzing of the main light and the fan’s inistent whirring left his head pounding.  
“Hush, love. ‘ve got you, ‘s okay,” Solomon replied, noticing how he flinched at the excess of sound and light. “Let yourself rest for a moment, yeah? I’ll be right back.” Deftly, he peeled himself away and up from the cool tiles, silencing both sounds as he shut off the main lights, and replaced it with the softer glow of the light above the sink. Filling a glass, he made sure he had what he needed within reach before hearing Cornelius groan as a second bout of nausea left him reeling, the bitter-tasting bile forcing its way up and catching the sleeve of his shirt even as Solomon returned to hold him through it.

Once things seemed to come to a natural pause, Solomon prised his partner’s white-knuckled grip loose from the bowl, and after coaxing him to rinse his mouth, brought him to rest against his chest. “I’ve got you,” he repeated, “rest for me now. I‘ve got you safe ‘nd sound.” With featherlight fingers, he unbuttoned the tight, cheap shirt, peeling it away from where it had been prickling against Cornelius all day, the rough material making his skin crawl and only adding to the miserable cacophony of discomfort that had built up to bring him this low. He eased a cool washcloth over him, wiping away the clamminess before taking off his own jumper and bundling Cornelius up warm in the thick, soft wool. Ever so slowly, he coaxed Cornelius to rest his head against his thigh, cradling him in his lap as they waited for the nausea to pass, testing a sip of water now and then in hopes of keeping him hydrated. Cornelius found himself staring listlessly into space as he was gently shifted around, whimpering softly when a particularly bad wave wracked through him. He couldn’t hold back a contented moan as Solomon laid a cool flannel over his forehead, his eyes fluttering shut as he let it soothe him, feeling those strong arms keeping him safe from any more harm. Only once they were certain he could keep them down did Solomon reach for the painkillers, smiling softly at the trust in Cornelius’ eyes as he placed them gingerly on his tongue before bringing the glass to his lips. Then he lifted him, murmuring something about saving their backs as he nestled him against his chest and carried him through to the couch, where their nest of blankets had been lying empty in the long weeks since this whole mess began.

“You wanna stay like before, love?” Solomon asked, softly, “Get you used to the feeling of the blankets before I hold you, make sure it doesn’t get too much again?” Cornelius had nodded, his motions tiny against Solomon’s broad chest before he snuggled down, his arms clinging tight around his waist, and his face pressed up close against him. And there Solomon urged him to stay, and to rest for a while. Once Cornelius was properly settled, he carefully pulled the hair tie free, hushing him with gentle apologies as a pained whine drifted up to match the brows furrowing against him. “‘m sorry, darling. It’ll feel better once its done.” He promised, before beginning to unwind the knots that had entangled themselves in his hair during the day, his knowing fingers weaving through the strands before moving to rub gently at his scalp. At first, Cornelius greeted the feeling with a hiss, each tug feeling like a red hot skewer being driven through his skull and into his brain. But slowly, slowly the repetitive motions lulled him into a tired sort of calm, leaving him nuzzling closer against Solomon as his strong hands melted the tension that had been surrounding him. Without him needing to say a word, Solomon’s hands continued down to the nape of his neck, and then along his jaw, relaxing days worth of built up tension and frustration, one thumb ghosting over his bitten lower lip and up to the corners of his mouth, which ached from his forced, ‘professional’ smile. With Hickey’s eyes fluttering shut against him, Solomon allowed his concern to show in his face, gazing down sadly at the exhausted bundle in his lap.

Some time later, Cornelius blinked up at him timidly, a blush worming its way onto his cheeks. “Solly?” he rasped slowly, his eyes bleary and voice sore as he tried to bring it back into use. “C-could you hold me? Please?” He hated this, hated being so much work so late at night, even as Solomon’s soothing voice drifted over him. Not a minute later he found himself cocooned in his arms, Solomon’s musky scent surrounding him as he nestled his head in the crook of his neck. “‘m sorry for all this, Sol.” He whispered, “‘s the last thing you need, ‘specially after ‘ve been whining all month.  
Solomon tucked his head down to nuzzle against Hickey’s hair, just in case he could catch his gaze before responding. “It’s not your fault, love. None of this is your fault. It’s me who should be sorry that you’re suffering for all the fuss they’re making.”  
Cornelius shook his head minutely, his brow furrowing against Solomon’s skin. “Don’ like making you do all the comforting all the time.”  
“It won’t be like this forever, Cor,” Solomon’s voice rumbled in his chest, the sensation reaching Cornelius before the words could, “We’ll get things settled soon, I promise.” The words brought hot tears to Hickey’s eyes from his hiding place, the exhaustion and frustration bubbling over into helplessness.  
“I know,” he whispered, his voice breaking even as he searched for the right words. “I jus’... jus’ wish it could be over now. That all this would just stop.”  
The next thing he felt was Solomon’s huge hands rubbing slowly over his back, one running up his shoulders to steady his head and catch his tears as they fell. Carefully, Solomon coaxed him up slightly, before pressing his lips against his forehead, and leaving long, lingering kisses on his hot skin. “Me too, love. The sooner the better.” He murmured, squeezing him as tightly as he dared, and stopping each tear in its tracks with diligent hands and lips. “But all we can do for now is keep you steady, ‘nd rested, ‘nd well enough to get to that point, yeah?” He continued, his deep voice lilting as Cornelius’ breath hitched in the quiet. “We’ll find a way out, Cornelius. We always have. But for now you need rest. We’ll take it slow tomorrow, let your body get back up to speed with itself before you’re next due in, take some time to just _be_ together until you’re feeling better. And that all starts with a good sleep, yeah?” He murmured, pressing a kiss to Cornelius’ flushed cheek. “Let yourself drift off now, darling. I’ve got you. I’ll keep you safe.”

Cornelius shifted slightly to gaze up at him with exhausted eyes, smothering a yawn in Solomon’s shoulder as he took comfort in his words. “I’ll try,” he replied, before gingerly reaching up to press a kiss to Solomon’s cheek, and then to his lips. “Thank you, Sol. I l’ve you.” He whispered against him, his sleepy nuzzles and kisses met move for move as he was settled down safe against his chest. “And I you, love. Sleep tight, now for me, hm?” Solomon murmured in reply, his lips warm in Cornelius’ hair as he snuggled in to sleep, his eyes falling shut before he’d even laid his head down.


	3. The first time they 'did' Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Growing up, Christmas had always seemed like a bit of a scam to them both - yet this year, they'd decided to give it a shot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was *hoping* to get this up before Christmas - but life decided it would get in the way. SO with a whole 10 minutes left of this year - Happy New Year's Eve, have some fluff.

The first Christmas lights had caught them by surprise. After weeks of complaining that Christmas ‘couldn’t happen’ until after Halloween, or after Guy Fawkes Night, or after Remembrance Day, they had both written Christmas off as being “Not Yet”. That was until it burst through their door in an avalanche of brightly-coloured pamphlets, all screaming about the new latest offers. “‘s a waste of paper, isn’t it?” Solomon groused as he watched Cornelius gathering the last stragglers into a pile from his perch by the fireplace, a half-formed wood shaving held fast under his knife as he paused, a newborn carving nestling in his hand as it was slowly coaxed into life. “Could’ve made somethin’ with all that.”   
With his select pick of the flyers in hand, Cornelius settled nearby to rifle through them, his eyebrow half raised as he grinned at his boyfriend’s sulking. “They’ll do for kindling if we run out,” he replied. “Was about as close to celebrating as we got growing up. Mam never bothered with it, but at least we were warm for a bit.” He felt that wry smile returning to him again - the one that forbade pity, that stopped up the reminiscence before it had a chance to hurt him again. Quietly, Solomon leaned in, resting his head against his shoulder as he ran his thumbs over the smooth wood in his hands.   
“H’ve you ever... ‘done’ the whole Christmas thing?” He asked, slowly, carefully judging the tension he felt in Cornelius’ shoulders to avoid pushing too far. “God only knows we didn’t, not once Dad was gone.” He could feel the stiffness rising in his partner’s shoulders, turning to press a kiss into the warm wool of his jumper as he felt him shake his head.   
"Y’mean apart from working in retail? No.” Sluggishly, Cornelius shifted to lean against him, before clearing his throat and pushing a red and white flyer in Solomon’s direction. “If you want, though, there’s one of those markets coming to town next week. We can go. If nothing else we can people watch.”   
“Spot all the twelve year olds spending too much to impress crushes that’ll last a week?”   
“And the shit husbands ignoring their wives’ hints?”   
“And the mums wondering if they should’ve got their kids smaller stockings?” Cornelius hid a grin in Solomon’s hair before he shifted to look up at him. “Cynic.”   
“But you love it?”   
“But I love it.” He agreed, a smile on his face as Solomon nuzzled in to steal a kiss.

A week and some snowfall later, the two of them found themselves wandering between the rows of heavily-decorated huts, nudging one another as they spotted one of their stereotypes, and slowly turning it into a game of bingo. Solomon stayed close behind his partner, his eyes darting through the crowd. Usually he’d have stepped forward and slipped his hand into his, creating a barrier between him and his anxieties. But the snow had come early, leaving Cornelius’ hands firmly buried in his pockets until he’d rediscovered the safe place he’d tidied his gloves into. But eventually, they found themselves unwinding, Solomon pausing to chat with a fellow carver in one of the huts, whilst Cornelius pretended not to be marvelling at the richly scented wreaths and decorations hanging outside, finding himself drawn to the heady mixture of spices, citrus, and pine. Solomon smiled softly as he spotted the curiosity in his face, letting him linger in his distraction for a few more moments. “We could get one for home, if you’d like?” he offered quietly, kissing at his cheek before gasping at how cold he’d become. “How about I let you pick one ‘nd go find us some of that mulled wine?” he suggested, before weaving through the crowd, using his bulk to his advantage as he ducked from stall to stall.   
Ten minutes later they found each other again in the street beyond the market, Cornelius warming himself around his steaming cup as they loitered away from the hubbub under the lights. “This… wasn’t so bad.” He offered, trying to read Solomon’s expression and glancing at his feet as he saw the soft look in his eyes. It was only then that he spotted the brown paper bag hiding in the crook of Solomon’s arm. “You get yourself a prize too?” he teased, grinning at the blush creeping into Solomon’s cheeks.   
“Not quite,” he paused, before passing the bag over, “‘s actually for you. It could wait til the 25th, but I thought it’d be even better now.”  
A soft green scarf emerged then, with thick mittens to match. Cornelius turned them over and over in his hands, marvelling at them silently before slipping them on to keep in the warmth from the wine. “Sol, you didn’t have to…” he murmured, running his fingers together as he admired the material.   
“But I wanted to.” Solomon replied, reaching to squeeze one hand, before taking hold of the scarf. “May I?”

It became a tradition in the days that followed - the swift pattern of Solomon’s rough hands as he wove the thick wool around Cornelius’ throat, tucking him up to keep as much heat in that lean body as they possibly could. The mittens, too, began to feel familiar, Cornelius’ hands folded into his own wherever they went. There were stares - of course there were, there always were - but they hadn’t the time to care, not now. Solomon couldn’t think of a time that he’d seen his partner’s eyes sparkle this often before. Whether it was on their walks home in the dark, the snow lit up by thousands of lights from every direction, or in the delighted giggle that came when a well-placed snowball caught him square on, he found himself gazing at Cornelius more and more as the days went by. He’d never forget how tightly Cornelius clung to him when he took him ice skating for the first time - the nervous, bambi-like movements as he first stepped onto the ice quickly melting into something more fluid as he became more confident in the knowledge that Solomon would catch him in a heartbeat if he fell. Before long, they were hand in hand, dodging small children until they found a clear patch to themselves. Grasping both hands tightly in his, Solomon had spun them round and round, picking up the pace until they could do nothing but giggle breathlessly, the rest of the world thrown into a blurry, meaningless haze. The kiss that followed as they came to a standstill was yet more dizzying, leaving the two of them utterly wrapped up in each other the whole way home.

But tonight was different. Rubbing his mittened hands together, Cornelius stamped the snow and sludge from his boots before finally stepping inside after yet another long haul shift. His citrus decorations greeted him as he hung up his coat, their powerful scent soon giving way to something else. Drifting on the warmth from the kitchen, Solomon’s own rich voice greeted him as he bustled about, completely unaware of his presence. Cornelius watched him silently as he took in the scene - the carefully decorated Christmas biscuits, all threaded with ribbon to be hung on the tree they’d picked out the night before, jam tarts dusted with snowy icing sugar, and the smudge of icing on Solomon’s cheek that loitered unnoticed as he sang on to himself. _“_  
The first Nowell the angels did say, was to certain poor shepherds in fields where they lay…”  
His hands were busy - they always were - and Cornelius found himself holding his breath, not wanting to steal his attention from the delicate icing work he was lacing across the roof of a gingerbread house. Sooner or later he’d look up, perhaps at the end of a verse, and spot Cornelius peeking around the doorframe. Greeting him with a grin that only grew more sheepish as he was pulled down and that smudge kissed away, he’d pulled out a chair next to him, before folding a mug of hot chocolate into Cornelius’ still-cold hands, and handfeeding him corners of his baked creations to bring some life back into his cheeks. He continued to hum even when he wasn’t singing outright - and not the tracks that Cornelius had heard back to back at work, but carols rich in tradition, some to tunes he’d known since school, and others to those that dated back even further, with stories and ideas that had crossed languages, continents, and generations to end up in their cosy little kitchen that night.

The evening was dedicated to the tree - Solomon’s carolling interrupted by the occasional yelp and curse brought on by the pine needles, and Cornelius’ responding laugh that would last until the tables turned on him. He stood back as Solomon turned off the main lights and lit up the tree for the first time, admiring their handiwork as it towered above him. Then Solomon’s warm, strong arms were wrapping around his waist as he nuzzled into the crook of his neck, leaving him nosing back against him. “Think we’ve done a good job.” He murmured, dotting a kiss to Solomon’s cheek, before grousing slightly as he felt him pull away again.“ That we have. But there’s just one thing missing.” Hickey had no time to question what that might be before he was swept off his feet, his legs wrapping around Solomon’s waist and arms around his neck as he was picked up and carried closer. Then a star was pressed into his hands, its silver glistening even in the low light.   
“Thought I’d save this part for you.” Solomon whispered to him, before keeping him steady as he reached to balance it on the highest point. Once it was in place, he looked back to Solomon, blushing brightly at the softness in his face and snuggling against him to hide it. As beautiful as their tree had become, it was the wonder in Cornelius’ eyes that had enraptured him - the way they sparkled with the reflections of the lights, and the care with which he placed the star down. He squeezed him close, then - tucking his face against his partner’s until he could coax him from his hiding place, and meet that gaze for himself.  
“Y'think this is what they mean by a happy Christmas?” he teased softly as they leaned into each other.   
“Very.” Was the only reply he got, before they were distracted by the press of their foreheads together, and the warm kiss that followed at last.


	4. The First Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They both knew that they'd fight eventually; but not like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been quite so long - instead of being a Christmas holidays project, health and various work have been trying to kill me for long enough that now it's a summer one, I guess!  
> TW for this chapter: very brief domestic violence as triggered by PTSD - it's not graphic, but better tagged than not.

Solomon had known from the start that there were three things Cornelius couldn’t stand; raised voices, physical force, and being kept in the dark. And for the most part, he’d avoided them so far. Of course they’d had spats before - brief blowups when they were both tense, a bit of bickering here and there; the usual suspects for a couple with their temperaments. He’d known that a proper fight would have to come sooner or later, and kept those three boundaries in mind in an attempt to stave it off. But then again, neither of them had thought it would all come to a head quite like this. 

That day, Cornelius could tell that something wasn’t right when Solomon got home from the gym - and yet when he insisted that all he’d need was a shower and a nap to set him right he hadn’t wanted to interfere, sending him off with a gentle kiss and promising to join him as soon as he could. And so when the phone rang a few hours later, Cornelius had left his partner slightly calmer and reading quietly in the bedroom to answer. But after a terse conversation, he came back with a face like thunder. Solomon looked up curiously, the weariness still lurking in his eyes even after a rest. “Is everything alright, love?” He asked, shifting back over for him to resume his spot on the bed. Instead, Cornelius stayed standing in the doorway, hands thrust into his pockets and shoulders tensed up around his shoulders.  
“Were you gonna tell me?” He asked, his words slow and deliberate as he stared at him, one eyebrow raised.  
Solomon sighed, marking his page before scrubbing a hand over his face. “Who was it?”  
“Your gym trainer, Sol. Checking in on you after “what happened earlier.” Felt like a right prick when I had to ask a stranger what had happened to my own partner.” Cornelius replied, a false lightness to his tone, trying to hide the hurt and yet feeling it creeping out as anger. “So? Were you planning to tell me? Or just cuddle up and pretend that you’re fine?”  
Solomon couldn’t look at him just yet, picking at a loose thread in the duvet cover as he tried to piece things together. “I-I was going to when we got up. Alex said that I ought t’ rest before talking abou-”  
Cornelius scoffed, interrupting him. “Oh, so he knows too?!”  
“Only because I called him on the walk home. He’s my therapist, Cornelius, he needed to know.” A cooler tone crept into Solomon’s voice as he tried to keep his voice level, before hoisting himself up to move towards his partner and close the gap between them. Cornelius stared at him incredulously, running a hand through his hair and doing all he could not to wrench it out.  
“You _walked_?! In that state? Hell, you could’ve called, Sol. I could’ve come ‘nd got you, made sure you got home safe…” 

For a brief moment, they stared each other down, the worry lacing Cornelius’ tone as the guilty defensiveness crept into Solomon’s. Rolling his jaw, Solomon gritted his teeth as he tried to bite back a retort. “I wanted the space. Needed some air after… after that. I know it doesn’t make sense, but that’s what I needed, and that’s what helped.”  
“I’d have walked with you then!” Came Cornelius’ exasperated reply, “What if it had flared back up again in the street, hm? We’d talked about this, set a plan in place for when this kind of thing happened. Dr MacDonald approved it. How am I supposed to help if we don’t follow that?” He asked more quietly, wanting nothing more than to understand. He couldn’t figure out who he was most upset with; the gym for not calling him as Solomon’s emergency contact? The doctor, for not bringing him into the conversation when it really mattered? Or the rising sense of inadequacy in his chest at the idea that he’d not even realised things were that bad with Solomon, and the uselessness that followed when he saw all the missed opportunities he’d had to help. “We’ve been curled up in here for hours, Solly.” He added, reaching a hand out towards him, “Why didn’t you say something? Just a hint, even, that things hadn’t gone alright?”

Solomon pulled away, his guilt mingling with the overly-sympathetic tone of his partner’s voice. “I would’ve mentioned it later, Cor. You’re acting like this is the first time that PTSD’s ever flared up. I coped with it alone for the last six years - I don’t need babying to cope with it now.” He snapped, feeling another wash of guilt as he saw Cornelius flinch in response. It mingled with the residual shame that still lingered from before - the embarrassment of hurling himself to the ground in the middle of the crowded gym because of some stupid action movie playing on the screens, the high-pitched voice of his trainer and the well-meaning crowd gathering  as they panicked, uncertain as to how they could help, and made things worse in the process. He hated that it had come out like this - and as he saw something harden in Cornelius’ eyes, he could tell it was about to get a whole lot worse.

“I’m only asking because I’m worried, Solomon. We promised that this kind of thing wouldn’t get swept under the rug, before they snowball and get worse again, yeah? That we were gonna work as a team?” Cornelius appealed to him, before a snide afterthought slipped out unchecked. “Or do I not matter enough to be part of that anymore, huh?” He regretted it as soon as it was out in the open - but it was too late for that now.  
“Fuck, of course you matter!” Solomon shot back, running a hand through his hair as he felt his voice rising. “I jus-just didn’t want to make a fuss while you’re tired, and things have been so much better lately that I didn’t… didn’t want to ruin it.” Biting the inside of his cheek, Cornelius fought the impulse to run even as Solomon’s excuses came out. If he was calm, he might’ve taken them, hating that things were escalating like this after Solomon had been through so much already today - yet the hurt and surprise had ignited themselves, leaving the fire burning in his chest as the fear of what else Solomon might be hiding took him over.

“Your health comes first, Sol!” He replied, his higher voice rising, “I’m not gonna let you make yourself worse by bottling things up over little things like that!” He wanted to shake sense into Solomon, no matter how selfish it made him feel, to make him understand quite how it had felt to hear something like that from a stranger, rather than from the person he trusted most - and who he thought trusted him, too. He stepped closer, trying to bridge the gap that seemed to be opening up right beneath his feet.  
“For the last time, Cornelius, I can _cope_.” Came the reply, loud enough to make him flinch, and for the panic to take hold. Reaching out, he went to grab onto Solomon’s shoulder to pull him closer and break him out of his defensive cycle. His aim was off, but Cornelius was too agitated to care. “Solomon, you’re not _listenin-_ ” With a sharp snap, Solomon’s broad hand wrapped around his wrist, wrenching it away as it got too close to his face. There was a sudden panic in Solomon’s eyes too - the instinctive fear that he was going to be hit engulfing him, enough to trigger his military-born reflexes. For a moment they stood there, both wide-eyed and panting as they stared at each other, terrified, before the breath that Hickey had gasped in came out as a pained, breathless whine. “Solomon…” 

As quickly as he’d taken hold, Solomon let go, taking a few rapid steps back as Cornelius cradled his wrist to his body, an angry, red mark remaining wrapped around it. “Oh Christ, Cornelius,” he stuttered out, eyes fixed on the mark and then jumping to his frightened face, “I’m sorry, I-” _I forgot my own strength_ was the only honest, weak reason he could’ve given as he stepped forward to try and assess the damage done, even as Cornelius shrank away from him. He looked smaller than ever, framed against the doorway as he hastily backed towards it . “I, I-” he started, eyes flickering back towards the door yet carefully tracking how close Solomon was coming, “I need a smoke. I’m sorry.” With that he fled, leaving Solomon doused in guilt, staring horror-struck his hands as the blood of the past crept back over them.

The next few hours saw Hickey making his way through the majority of a packet of cigarettes whilst Solomon texted his therapist in a panic. The dusk was coming in fast now, and yet the tiny hunched figure outdoors didn’t seem to be thinking of moving any time soon. He prepared everything for Cornelius’ favourite meal, his hands working out of habit as his mind rushed through how on earth he could begin to undo the hurt he’d caused. He knew there was guilt on both sides - and yet it was him who’d gone too far - who’d broken not just one, but two of Cornelius’ most rigid boundaries in quick succession. Once there was little more left to do, he walked back over to the window, keeping an eye on Cornelius even as he called him. He watched him take his phone out of his pocket and watch until the call rang out and redirected him to voicemail. Clearing his throat, he tried to gauge the slump of his partner’s shoulders as he spoke. “Cornelius, I- I know sorry isn’t enough, but it’s getting dark out… Come back in so that you’re safe? Please?” he begged, hoping that the worry in his voice didn’t drive him away. “It’s gotta be cold out there, and if anything happened to you, especially when it’s my fault you’re there, I… I don’t know what I’d do. ‘m scared for you, C’rnelius. I need you... I’ve always needed you, and I’m sorry I didn’t show it enough. Please come home, love?” He kicked himself as he hung up with his customary “love you,” before watching, hawklike, as Cornelius brought his own phone to his ear, standing statuesque until long after the message must have ended, staring out into the dark. Then, much to Solomon’s relief, the bright end of the cigarette was stubbed out, and a few minutes later, a key sounded in the lock.

They picked their way through dinner, and through a stilted, all cards on the table conversation, forcing them to air what was on their minds, all sincere words and sad, worried gazes until they finally managed to come to an apology. Cornelius had remained hunched up tight until well after dinner, the smell of smoke sticking to him until he ducked away to shower it off with the briefest twitch of a smile. While he was in there, Solomon dug out their softest jumpers and blankets, placing Cornelius’ on the radiator to warm through, and receiving a small grin of thanks when he returned. Yet things still weren’t quite right. Their kisses were more chaste, their embrace looser, and when a sleepless Solomon glanced down to where Hickey had settled for the night, he spotted the shadow of a dark bruise forming around his wrist.

The bruising only got uglier by the morning, spreading and becoming more tender if the look on Cornelius’ face was anything to go by. “It’ll be fine.” was the only response that Solomon got when he tried to apologise for it, Cornelius instinctively rejecting any offers of ointment to help it heal, and tucking it against his chest protectively at any offers to kiss it better. In the week it took to clear up, things went from bad to worse, that old haunted look in Cornelius’ eyes returning to where it hadn’t been seen for months. Solomon found himself staring at his hands a lot these days, unsure where else to look during those long silences, and hating their size and power at every move. They’d spent so long and worked so hard to break the association in Cornelius’ mind between touch and pain, rewriting what had been hardwired into him since he was a child - and yet now it was as if Solomon had set everything back to square one. Cornelius was wary in those first few days - the feeling of Solomon’s strong arms around his waist leaving him tense, and the usual touches to his hair and cheek enough to make him flinch away from the hands that he loved. He hated it, there was no denying that; hated the return of the shy caution to Solomon’s voice, and the sharpness to his own; hated the way he’d stiffen under Solomon’s touches and the sad reluctance with which he’d pull away, his hands fidgety, twisting themselves into his pockets as he looked to the ground, thinking that Cornelius couldn’t see the broken look on his face; hated the way their hands would brush together when they walked together, grasping and holding tight for a few tantalising moments by instinct, only for him to let go a few strides later, the cold flooding into the distance between them. There were dark circles growing under their eyes now, worsening each night that they spent pretending to each other that they could sleep on opposite sides of the bed, could leave that space between them - each pretending not to notice the way the other tossed and turned as he tried to feel warm and safe enough to sleep, and failed. Each morning they got up more exhausted, the fight taken out of them and replaced by an odd sort of longing for things to go back to ‘normal’, each blaming himself for not stopping sooner, for pushing too far, for not apologising better, for letting the silence drag on and the cold creep in.

They’d started leaving each other notes months before, letting one another know if something cropped up, or would differ from their usual routine if they’d forgotten to mention it in the early-morning rush. Now, however, the notes began to take place of their everyday conversations, Solomon leaving earlier for the gym, and Cornelius working later into the night in a plain attempt to keep going. One morning however, Cornelius overslept, and woke up into a rush for work. Guessing that Solomon was out, he’d stumbled blearily through to the kitchen, fumbling for the kettle, only to find a flask sitting in his way, a post-it note begging his attention. _“I made more than I thought. It’s strong, though. Hope it gets you through work, S x”._ With a soft smile, Cornelius had gathered his work things, before making just enough time to set out one of Solomon’s favourite sweaters, along with a fresh, fluffy towel. _“Hope you’ve had a good workout,”_ his own note read, _“Thought you might be ready for a freshen up. C.”_ From then on, they both made a point of taking time to do a small favour for one another in sequence, each returning the kindness of the move before. The “thank you”’s they gave in person were still stilted, but day by day the accompanying smiles lasted a little longer before they glanced away. It all made Solomon’s heart ache - getting a glimpse of that smile, the sweet one reserved just for him, made him miss it even more, each brush of their hands leaving him pining for the next time. “Give it some time,” his therapist had said, trying not to grin at the lovesick look in Solomon’s eyes, firm in his confidence that they’d patch things up in their own time.

Over a week passed before Solomon decided that he couldn’t wait any longer. Part of him was mildly ashamed at how desperate he was becoming to be able to breathe easy around Cornelius again, let alone for the same to be true for his partner. Today, he realised, would be one of the rare days Cornelius would be home before him. Having figured out the usual comings and goings of the graveyard where Heather had been laid to rest, and knowing when he was least likely to be disturbed, he’d planned his day around the time that he tended to visit, leaving himself with a spare morning with which he was too agitated to focus on much. In the end he chose to bake, rifling through his mental catalogue of recipes for Cornelius’ favourites, settling on miniature muffins with gooey fillings. Everything he baked for Cornelius was on a much smaller scale than he was used to - knowing him to be anxious about food at the best of times, he kept the treats small but numerous to give him enough control to avoid becoming overwhelmed. The entire time he was baking he wondered how he’d phrase the note he’d leave with them, absentmindedly arranging them in a neat heart shape before sitting down to write with shaky hands. _“Can’t remember if I mentioned that I’m out seeing Heather this afternoon - hope these can keep you company until then!”_ he picked, trying to keep the tone light before taking a deep breath and a risk and altering his signature. _“I miss you. Love, Solly.”_

He’d nearly scrapped the note so many times before he left, pacing around the living room anxiously and staring at those words as he fastened his coat. They were a risk, he knew that much; and yet they were the truth, and he feared he’d go mad if he kept silent much longer. Hands in his pockets, and shoulders hunched up almost round his ears, he locked the door behind him, and wondered what he’d find when he returned. Sat cross-legged on the dew-wet grass, he told Heather everything, running his fingers through the soft blades over and over as he talked the whole thing out again with hindsight weighing on his mind. “I hope it comes off alright, H,” he’d told the weatherbeaten stone before leaning against it with a sigh, “I really, really do.”

Cornelius, meanwhile, had returned to the smell of fresh baking, and found his stomach growling. Between the tension of their mealtimes and the hectic work schedule he’d taken on that week, he’d been snatching morsels far more than he usually did, and pushing the rest round his plate to fill the silences. Instinctively, he found himself looking for Solomon, knowing that where there was baking, he usually wouldn’t be far. It was only after biting into the first of the cakes that he’d spotted the note, this one neatly folded in comparison to its slightly haphazard predecessors. Perching on the table, he quickly swallowed the rest of his treat as he unfolded it, grinning at Solomon’s easy-going tone, and smiling fondly at the mention of Heather. Despite having known him for mere days outside the vegetative state that they'd had to say goodbye to, Heather had played a greater part in their relationship than the man would ever know. He pondered on it for a few minutes, wondering how things would be different if he’d been here, before returning to read the rest of the note - and soon after, his heart froze. He stared at those words, letting them run through his mind over and over before setting the letter aside and staring into the distance instead. He knew he’d been missing _something_ \- at first he’d dismissed it as simply being the comforting regularity of their daily routine, or the furnace-like warmth of Solomon’s arms. Now, however, he was realising that he missed Solomon himself; missed the safe and secure feeling that he always used to bring him. He was tired, run down from the constant tension coursing through him, from the consistent lack of sleep - now all he wanted was to be held and to hold Solomon tight in return. And so he stayed curled up on the couch closest to the door, a mug of tea keeping his hands warm as he dozed in the late afternoon sun, but keeping a keen ear out for the sound of the key in the lock. 

Solomon returned much as he’d arrived; his shoulders tight and breath caught up in his throat as he forced himself to face what was coming. He looked genuinely surprised as Cornelius caught his attention by unfurling from his space on the couch, giving him a moment to remove the outside world, to leave it at the door with his coat and shoes, before moving closer. Tentatively, he stepped forward, trying not to blush as he drew near. “I… I’ve missed you too.” He murmured, pausing with his hands and words hanging in the air between them before giving in, closing the distance and burying his face in Solomon’s chest, his arms wrapped firmly around his broad back. “‘m sorry.”

For a long moment, Solomon could barely breathe, feeling like his own arms were moving through thick tar as he gingerly wrapped them around his partner, before pulling him in tight to his touch-starved frame. There were tears in his eyes as he screwed them shut, pressing his face into Cornelius’ hair as finally, _finally_ he could breathe him in again, the loneliness of the last few weeks overthrown by the simplest touch. “God, I’ve missed you,” he whispered raggedly, “‘m sorry, ‘m so, so sorry I hurt you-”

Feeling the tears trickling slowly into his hair, Cornelius raised his own red face to look into Solomon’s, cutting him short. Their eyes met and stayed there for the first time in what felt like years, before Cornelius pressed closer, reaching up as far as he could and wrapping an arm around Solomon’s neck to pull himself in. “‘s alright, Solly, yeah? We’re gonna be alright?” he asked, his heart running at a million miles a minute as he pressed their foreheads together, finding his own tears mingling together with Solomon’s on their cheeks. Swallowing hard, Solomon nodded quickly in reply, nuzzling in as he blinked away the tears. “Yeah,” came the breathless reply, “I think we are.” A beat went by before his watery smile grew warmer, and he couldn’t help but duck in close to print it firmly on Cornelius’. The kiss left them both reeling - and after a quick press of their lips, they found themselves diving back in for more, each lingering longer than the last, their first real kisses since it had all blown up. Soon they fell to grinning against each others lips, a thousand “I love you”’s being passed between them as they drank each other in. 

Soon, Cornelius found himself being lifted, wrapping himself around Solomon as he was carried back to his spot on the couch and brought to sit in his lap. Carefully, he took one of Solomon’s hands in his own, the remnants of the bruising finally faded enough to become invisible as he kissed along each knuckle before unfurling his fingers and bringing his palm to cup his own cheek. _You won’t hurt me,_ his gaze seemed to say, _I know you won’t._ Marvelling silently, Solomon stroked over the soft skin of his face, cradling it as if he was made of sand, as if he could slip through his fingers at any moment. “There now,” he breathed, “it’s finished, love. All that silence - it’s finished.” _Never again_ , his kisses promised Cornelius, _we’ll never let ourselves go back there._  

 


	5. The First Time they Switched

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please heed the tags - this is indeed my first foray into explicit smut writing and I'm v sorry for it. Nsfw, but Solomon deserves all the love that he hasn't had before, and that's exactly what Cornelius is going to give him! I didn't want to change the whole collection's rating to explicit, but if this one was alone, it would probably warrant it oop.  
> Also mild warning for some very brief homophobia in the second paragraph <3

Before Cornelius, Solomon thought he’d got this whole thing figured out. As a big guy in uniform, there was never a shortage of women who wanted just that - a bit of rough, a status symbol who’d give her what she wanted on the side. Solomon, ever willing to please, had always done just that. Some of them stuck around - not content with a quick fling, they’d feast on the martyrdom of being the one left behind to friends and family alike. They liked the idea of a big, strong protector who could fight their corner; the bigger muscles he’d return with; the roughness of his hands as they batted their eyelashes and told him to hold them down harder. They didn’t like to see the other side of it - the flashbacks, the nightmares, the days where he couldn’t do much more than curl in a ball and breathe through it as everything became overwhelming.  _ “Thought you were my big, brave soldier,”  _ they’d say,  _ “What’ve you done with him?” _ Solomon didn’t know - he just wished he knew so that he could bring him back, and stop letting them down. 

He’d stopped dating for a while after the last one. Jean had been striking, strong-willed and tolerant of most things. They’d lasted a year, and Solomon had slowly begun to open up to her about what he liked and didn’t like. She loved to ‘experiment’, as she put it - pushing him to do all sorts of things she promised he’d love. She’d never know the shot of terror that ran through him when she’d asked him to restrain her; to hit her; and worst of all the time she asked him to choke her. He gave it a shot, just for a few moments, before the sheer size difference terrified him into letting go. “‘m sorry,” he’d mumbled, “can’t do it.” He remembered the disappointment in her eyes as she left that evening, his apologies waved away with vague reassurances that it was “fine.” The slight sneer that it was met with was nothing compared to the one time he asked to try something. She’d laughed in his face, before realising that he’d meant it. “Put something  _ in _ you?” She’d asked, the disgust dripping from her voice, “what are you, gay or something?!" Needless to say, they’d barely lasted another month after that.

He’d given up after that, until one late night conversation with Heather. They’d been out watching what turned out to be a false alarm for hours, before having to wait for a truck to bring them back to base. They’d groused about it all for a while, before Heather had cleared his throat quietly. “Might not be my place to ask, Sol,” he’d said, “but ‘ve you ever thought about if you might be into guys, too?” Solomon had stared at him with wide eyes in the dusk, breath caught up in his throat as all those half-finished, quickly suppressed thoughts swirled back into his mind. “A-a little, I guess. How did you know?”  “Jus’ an inkling. But whatever happens, I’ve got your back, yeah? You’ve not got to hide, Sol, not ‘round me.”   
On their next leave, he’d met Cornelius - and not a month later, he’d lost Heather, and with him the brother’s support that he so desperately needed as he found his feet. 

He’d thought he’d be terrified as he learnt the ropes - and yet he felt safer with Cornelius than he’d felt in years. Maybe it was because he’d not left him to rot in the hospital when he’d first got back, but instead coaxed him - shy, wary, and suffering as he was - to stay with him, tending to the wounds both inside and out, and expecting little of him in return. Before that deployment, their meetings had been brief - after hours of Solomon’s shy, stumbling flirty texts being met with Cornelius’ confident, encouraging replies, they’d slowly riled one another up. They looked back on that fatal text fondly now, giggling at how smooth Solomon had found it at the time.  _ “Fuck this,” _ it had read,  _ “I need you. Half an hour, my place or yours???”  _ Solomon had been so nervous yet also so desperate as the minutes ticked by; yet he needn’t have bothered. Cornelius had met him with that trademark smile, and kissed him calm before taking him to bed. He’d suggested they take things slow, guiding him through it with soft praises even as his fingers trembled against his rim. “Y’ can’t hurt me, Solly, ‘s alright.” Cornelius had whispered, reaching down himself to guide his thick fingers inside, and gasping as Solomon wrecked him without even realising how good he was. 

The wait for his injuries to heal had been agonising for both of them - whilst it gave them ample opportunity to get to know one another better, their kisses left them wanting far more than they knew was safe - and Cornelius wouldn’t be moved on the matter, instead dropping to mouth at Solomon’s cock until he dropped the matter and replaced it with a different kind of begging. “As soon as you’re all healed up,” Cornelius had promised him in the dark afterwards, “‘m gonna make the prettiest mess of you. Any way you want me, ‘s all yours.” The catch in Solomon’s breath had told him there was indeed something he’d been wanting, and the wolfish grin his bashful confession was met with led to yet more promises, made in Cornelius’ rich, lilting voice until Solomon was keening, his thighs spreading slightly out of an instinct that only earned him more praise. “Soon, Solly. Soon I’ll fill you up, let you feel every part of me buried deep inside you. We’ll have you feeling so good for me, love, just you wait ‘nd see…”

They’d tried it twice before now; but both times Solomon had been too nervous, clenched up tight and unable to relax no matter how hard he tried. The more he tried, the more anxious he’d got - the fear of letting Cornelius down, of seeing that disappointed sneer on his face too, of him maybe even leaving if he continued to let him down like this. Yet each time, Cornelius had seemed more worried about him, kissing him into the mattress instead until the tension all melted away. Last time, he’d fucked his thighs afterwards. It wasn’t easy with the height difference, but with Cornelius’ voice in his ear praising him so sweetly, Solomon had still been a flushed wreck by the end of it, those promises ringing in his ears as he came all over them.

He’d never expected it to be tonight. Yet, as often happened it seemed, their “quick shower” had quickly fallen victim to wandering hands, leaving them both far redder than the warm water could account for. Cornelius bit his lip as he gazed up at his partner through his eyelashes, his hands running up his chest before pulling him down for another lingering kiss, only to be interrupted by a sharp gasp from Solomon as he pulled him closer with a handful of his toned ass. “Mm, was there something, love?” he asked lightly, letting a fingertip graze over his pucker before pulling away, not wanting to leave even the thought of pressure. He’d promised Solomon as much time as he wanted, and he was sticking to that. “Oh, _fuck_ …” Solomon had whispered, before his eyes fluttered open again, dark with want. “C’rnelius, please? C-can we?” That roguish smile returned then, Cornelius pressing himself up so close that their lips brushed as he spoke.  “Can we what, handsome? You wanna take me to bed, let me lie you down and take you apart, hm? Open you nice and slick and wide on my fingers? Maybe even something more, if the mood takes us?” He was interrupted by a whine and a series of pleas falling from Solomon’s lips as he pressed up against him, seeking any kind of relief he could. “Please, _please_ , Cornelius, please?” he’d whined, those wide eyes enough to have them in bed mere minutes later. 

Once Cornelius had him where he wanted him, he let his hands roam over Solomon’s toned body whilst kissing him firmly into the mattress, promises creeping in between each kiss as he left his marks all over his neck, and nipped carefully at Solomon’s collarbone. Then he took his face in one small hand, stroking his cheek lightly before rolling his hips down against Solomon’s, dragging a rich moan from his swollen lips. “Are you sure, Solly?” he asked, seriousness flickering over his face as he bit his own lip shyly. “You’ll let me know if you’re not 100% certain, yeah?” Solomon’s eyes shone back up at him, his ragged breathing hitching before he was pulled back down into him. “Yeah, I promise,” Solomon murmured, pressing first their foreheads and then their lips together gratefully. He felt so safe this time, safe in the knowledge that he had a way out if it went wrong, that they had other options, that he hadn’t led him on, and knowing now that Cornelius was always looking out to make sure he’d never be hurt in anything they did. “I l’ve you, Cor. I trust you.”

Slowly, Hickey’s hands drifted lower, teasing at Solomon’s navel before dipping down to run over his thighs. Before he even realised he was doing it, his legs spread themselves a little wider, letting Cornelius settle closer between them. “There, gorgeous, doesn’t that feel good? Spreading all wide and pretty for me.” Came the praise, Solomon whining quietly in reply as a slight tremor of want ran through the thick muscle. Carefully, Cornelius stroked up his thighs, his fingers trailing down and feeling Solomon open up to him as if he’d been made for it. Ever so slowly, he let one fingertip dip lower, teasing at his pucker again and feeling Solomon tense slightly even as he moaned. “‘s alright, Solly.” He crooned, thinking quickly as to how he could make this easier for him. “How about we try something else, hm? Get you all relaxed for me so that we can give you everything you want?” His eyes flickered up knowingly as he kissed at the crease of Solomon’s thigh, knowing full well that he would try and put on a brave face instead. Hearing the whiny protest that he’d been expecting, Cornelius grinned to himself before kissing lower and taking hold of one huge thigh in each hand. “I’ve got you, Solly. Jus’ feel for me.” He whispered, before running his tongue down and laving a wide, wet stripe up the length of Solomon’s crack. 

The raw cry it drew from him, along with the arch of his back, only encouraged Cornelius as he laid loose, light kisses over Solomon’s pucker. “There now, isn’t that good?” He murmured, spreading his cheeks further with his thumbs and delving deeper, pressing his tongue insistently to his tight hole.   
Solomon hadn’t expected this, let alone for it to feel anywhere near as intense, as good as it did, writhing against the sheets as his hands flailed for purchase. “Oh! Fuck, Cornelius, yes, please!” He cried out, his hips canting back as he was finally spread out like he’d dreamed of, each breath coming out as a high-pitched whine, before moaning long and low at the feeling of Cornelius’ tongue pressing its way inside. The hissed “yes” that followed only served to spur Cornelius on, leaving him moaning as his tongue flickered, speeding up slowly as he began to fuck Solomon with his mouth, his whole face wet with it as he put everything into making this feel good. If he could’ve smiled, he would have, enjoying the way Solomon squirmed under him, his shaky hands buried in his hair, and panting and moaning so much that he had to hold his hips still in order to keep going. Once he was sure Solomon was getting used to the feeling, he reached for the lube, messily coating his fingers before bringing one up to tease at his rim, glancing up to meet Solly’s gaze with his own heated one, and holding it as he quickly withdrew his tongue, and slipped the first joint of his finger in on the same stroke. “Good boy, Solly… Look at you, opening up so well for me,” he praised, still panting hard as he smiled up at him before shifting back up the bed to watch his expression carefully for any hint of pain. 

The sudden stretch had thrown Solomon into near silence, his moans breaking off into ragged panting as he stared wide-eyed at Cornelius, his muscles tensing for a few terrifying moments. But then his lover’s spare hand ghosted over his stomach, and slipped into his own, checking in with him silently. He took a deep, shaky breath, before letting it out as an equally ragged moan, guttural and rich as his head fell back against the pillows. “Fuck,  _ yes.”  _ He breathed, before keening loudly as he felt the rest of that digit curling into him, burying itself deep inside him and sparking another series of wonderstruck praises from Cornelius, half-drowned out by his own desperate moaning. Cornelius leaned in close, nuzzling against Solomon’s cheek as he slowly shifted in and out to give him a taste of it. “How’s that, hm? You ready for me to keep going?” He could feel Solomon’s ragged panting against his cheek, and once he leaned back he caught his gaze, those dark eyes pleading with him even as he interrupted himself with his moans. “Pl’se… please, ‘m so full, please?” Solomon forced out, moaning as that one finger rubbed along his insides, stretching him more than he’d ever been before. Tentatively, he offered up his lips, wetting the lower with his tongue before wrapping one huge arm around his partner to pull him into a kiss.

“Yeah?” Cornelius whispered as they paused for breath, before bringing a second finger up to tease at his rim. He was determined to take this as slowly as he could, to make sure he felt nothing but pleasure, adding even more lube before even thinking about adding a second. Solomon’s hands fisted in the bedsheets at the sounds it drew out of him, meeting the lewd noises with his own wet moans, encouraging Hickey to come closer by cradling him between his legs. Cornelius grinned proudly at the flush beginning to creep up Solomon’s chest, chasing it with his spare hand before taking hold of one thick thigh, feeling the muscles spasm under his palm as he pressed on, slowing his movements to let him get used to the stretch at his own pace. He cried out, his thighs shaking at the slick sounds that his partner was working out of him, each thrust pushing in deeper and dragging more and more whines out of him as Cornelius began to spread his fingers wider and leaving him panting, his brows knotting together as he arched into the feeling. “‘s so good, you’re so good,” he moaned out, Cornelius smiling fondly down at him before crooking his fingers more and more. “Yeah? You like that, hm? Like spreading all wide for me, letting me open you up and showing me what a good boy you are?” He cooed, grinning at the eager nods he got in return before leaning in to nip at his lips as he found what he’d been looking for. “Think you might quite like this, too…” he husked, pulling back to watch his partner’s face as he carefully rubbed over his prostate. 

Solomon had never felt anything like it, throwing his head back into the pillow as he arched up off the bed, the pleasure thrumming through him and ripping a raw cry from him. “Oh! F-fuck, yes, there,  _ oh! _ ” he cried, his hips pressing back into Cornelius’ fingers as he keened for more, to feel that intense pleasure again. Cornelius obliged, teasing a hand up his heaving chest as he bucked and moaned beneath him. “That’s it, Sol, you’re so good for me, doing so well.” He praised softly, switching between spreading his fingers and coming back to focus his attention on Solomon’s prostate, keeping him writhing desperately under him. Once the initial shock was over, Solomon tried to match his partner’s rhythm, fucking back onto his fingers before clenching down around them, making himself whine desperately. Cornelius smoothed back his hair, before trailing his fingers tantalisingly down his jaw, neck, and chest. “There now… doesn’t that feel good, getting all tight for me?” He panted out, swallowing his own moans as he wondered how long he’d be able to last once he pressed into that tight heat for himself, and hoping he’d be able to make it worth it for Solomon. “Look at you, so pretty for me… You think you’re nearly ready, gorgeous?”

Swallowing his moans and trying to steady his breathing, Solomon gazed up at him eagerly, “Yes, fuck, please, I want you, want your cock, please?” he moaned out, whining as Cornelius’ fingers brushed his prostate again.  “Yeah?” his partner replied, leaning in to tease at his lips once more, nipping at the swollen lower one before his cool breath ghosted over them, “Then how about you beg me for it, hm? I know you beg so prettily when you’re this needy.” He husked, revelling in the whimper it drew out of Solomon even as he leapt to do as he was told.  “Ohh, fuck, please, Cor, I need you, need you to fill me up, fuck me til I can’t think of anything but you, ‘t’d be so good, please?” He begged wantonly, thrashing as Cornelius massaged his prostate, making him beg for longer as he interrupted himself with scattered stutters and moans. “Please, _please_ , I need you, make me yours, p-please!” he sobbed out, his eyes shining as they too pleaded for what he wanted. Cornelius couldn’t help but moan gutturally in reply, leaning down to lick his way into Solomon’s mouth. Then, breaking away, he slowly tugged his fingers free, keeping a watchful eye on Solomon’s expression as he shifted to press the head of his cock to his slick, open hole. “Alright, love.” He murmured, reaching for Solomon’s hand again as he teased there for a moment, making him writhe and whimper pitifully. “I’ve got you. Let me take care of you.” Solomon clung on tight, trying desperately not to tense up at the last hurdle, even as he pressed his hips back into the feeling instinctively. “Please…” he whined, before feeling his partner pressing forward, fucking himself in slowly but surely until he bottomed out, a deep moan wracking through him as Solomon opened up around him. 

Solomon fell silent as he was filled, feeling himself stretching wider than he knew he could, his mouth a wide “o” as Cornelius settled inside him. For a few moments, he grasped desperately at his shoulders, panting raggedly through the slight burn that was slowly slipping away into pleasure. “O-oh”, he breathed, his eyes falling shut and head hitting the pillow with a thud even as his face contorted into an ecstatic grin, “Oh, fuck, yes…” he whispered, a deep groan tearing through him as he felt one small hand take hold of his thigh again as the other came to stroke over his cheek tenderly. He felt so safe now, entirely wrapped up with his partner as he slowly began to rock his hips into him. “There, gorgeous, doesn’t that feel good?” Cornelius crooned down at him, doing everything he could to hold back from fucking him into a sobbing mess, wanting to wreck him the right way for his first time. Biting his lip, he rolled his hips in slowly, giving Solomon a taste and watching his face carefully, “‘s this alright?” He asked, only to be cut off by an eager moan from his partner, “It’s so good, you feel so good, please?” Solomon begged, “Fuck me, please?” The grin he got in reply sent a jolt of arousal through him, feeling Cornelius slowly pulling himself most of the way out before thrusting his way back in properly. “You’re so tight for me Sol, so wet…” he panted out, aiming each thrust carefully to rub Solomon just right, and pressing his thighs back as far as he dared.

The deep stretch had Solomon keening, his hands fisting first in the sheets, and then shifting to run over Cornelius’ shoulders as he got more and more confident. “Please, more, I need you,” he panted out, his back arching as he got what he asked for with a particularly deep thrust. Slowly, he felt Cornelius speeding up as his confidence in him grew, reassured by how readily he was taking this. As soon as his prostate was hit again, he was half-gone, his head falling back and exposing his neck to Cornelius’ wet kisses even as he dragged his nails over his back. “There,  _ there _ , oh fuck, yes!” He moaned out, pulling Cornelius down closer to him and wrapping his strong legs around his hips. He could feel Cornelius’ breaths growing more and more ragged against him, before experimentally clenching down around him and feeling a strangled moan creep out, echoed by his own desperate whining. 

Cornelius could barely even find the words he needed, panting roughly against Solomon’s skin as he left his mark on him, and began to pick up the pace. He couldn’t help but cry out as he was pulled in closer, kissing up Solomon’s jawline as he felt himself getting impossibly harder. “Fuck, you’re so good for me, so gorgeous, making me so proud.” He praised him, his voice rough and interspersed with his own moans. He trailed his hand back down Solomon’s chest and over his stomach, before teasing at the base of his cock. “You want me to make you cum, hm? Gonna cum all over us, show me how good it feels?”  Solomon could do little but moan in reply, his voice growing hoarse with it even as he urged Cornelius on, and felt his eyes beginning to roll as he finally got a taste of how strong his thrusts could be. The next thing he knew, Cornelius’ slick hand was wrapping around his cock, leaving him arching up sharply, his hips rocking between Cornelius’ thrusts and his tight grip. “Yes! Fuck, ‘m so close, Cor, please?” he mewled out, the lewd sounds filling his head as he thrashed back and forth, clenching down desperately around him. Quickly, Cornelius ducked down, capturing his lips once more as he worked Solomon just as he liked and grinning at the sounds he was drawing out of him. Breaking away, he met his gaze before crooning softly to him, “C’mon then, love. Let go for me, there’s a good boy…” Solomon’s bottom lip began to tremble as his thighs shook around him, the pleasure overwhelming him from both inside and out. And yet he couldn’t bring himself to look away, the vulnerability plain as he let Cornelius see each and every flicker as he fell over the edge. “I-fuck, ‘m cumming, _C’rnelius!_ ” He could have screamed as his whole body was flooded with the feeling as his orgasm ripped through him, leaving him bucking and arching his way through it even as his sight blacked out into sheer pleasure.   


Cornelius knew he couldn’t make it through that, his thrusts becoming uneven as he fucked Solomon through it. “That’s it, good boy, so fuckin’ tight, so good for me,” he moaned out, milking the last of Solomon’s orgasm from him before letting himself go, burying himself deep and cumming at last with a long, low moan, his arms giving out and leaving him slumped on his partner’s chest. Solomon felt each and every aftershock running through them both, a ragged sigh falling from his lips at the feeling - one that he’d never expected to enjoy, but now relished with a sigh. “Mm, f’ll me up, ‘s it.” He moaned quietly, running his hands over Cornelius’ back as he clenched around him once more, shivering at the feeling against his oversensitive insides. They stayed there, panting in each others’ breaths even as their skin began to cool. 

As soon as he could, Cornelius hauled himself up Solomon’s body to nuzzle softly against his cheeks, one hand stroking over the tired flush that lingered there.  “How was that, Solly? You feeling alright?” He asked, smiling softly at the slightly bleary look in his lover’s eyes, resolving to go gently on him, pull out every aftercare trick he knew until he was relaxed and sleeping soundly. What he wasn’t expecting was for Solomon’s strong arms to wrap round him, almost tackling him to the mattress before he snuggled up against him with a contented hum. “‘t’s so good…” he mumbled, his contented sounds dripping from his lips like thick honey. “‘nd ‘m so wet…” he added, a small grin worming his way onto his face, before turning into a frown as Cornelius offered to clean him up. “Not yet?” he asked, blinking up at him with big, soft eyes, “Wanna feel you close first, lemme love you for a bit.” he rasped out, pressing his lips quietly to his neck. Cornelius had no response to that, leaving him grinning fondly down at his lover. “‘s alright with me, love. ‘Specially after you were so good for me, hm? Made me so proud, could barely believe it…”

Solomon blushed shyly then, nuzzling in close for a minute before untucking his face and gazing up at Cornelius quietly. “Y’re so good to me… But shut up ‘nd let me kiss you?” He teased, before pressing up close to make good on his word, pouring all the love and security that he had felt back into the kiss, and not letting go until he was certain Cornelius felt it too. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for vanishing again so soon - I foolishly thought I might actually have? Some time in the summer? NOPE! Thank you for sticking with this hot mess, and especially to Seb for kicking my arse into posting stuff. I have two more things vaguely looking like one shots so they might happen? Sometime soon? Hopefully not too long though!


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